


Ain't My Fault

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Don't Let's Start Adjacent [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, By which I mean driving each other crazy, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kuron is Ryou (Voltron), Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Shiro thought he was having a nice, calm evening. Ryou thought his snacks were safe.As is typical for them both, the situation escalates.
Relationships: Kuron & Shiro (Voltron), Ryou & Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Don't Let's Start Adjacent [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/892047
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	Ain't My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> A silly fic that's been sitting in my drafts for a while. Unlike usual, posting might be irregular because I'm not done ahead of time. Still, I wanted to post something for the boys' birthday, so here we are.

The kitchen is silent.

It has been several hours since dinner, so the dishes have been cleaned up and the team have gone to their own, individual pursuits. Hunk has been pulled into a project with Pidge, meaning Shiro has the space all to himself.

Not to cook, obviously. He has neither Hunk’s interest nor familiarity with the substitute ingredients he uses. Shiro just settles at the table with a snack and a translated Olkari novel on his tech pad.

There are more comfortable places to sit. If he doesn’t mind sharing with Ryou and Lance’s video game battle, Shiro could go to the common room. If not, his own room is always an option.

But camping out in the kitchens is domestic. Homey. It brings to mind afternoons building models with his grandfather or evenings reading and drinking hot cocoa with Adam. It makes the Castle of Lions feel like his space as much as anyone else’s, even if Allura has actual ownership.

So Shiro sits, enjoying the quiet in a place that’s usually so busy and lived in. Dishes are still drying on the counter and there’s a scrape on the floor next to his foot where Pidge dropped a hot tool and nearly cut clean through the floor. 

Shiro likes to know these pieces of history, the signs of their lives having affected even something as old as the castle. He leans back in the not-really-comfortable chair, tapping the pad to turn the ‘page’.

The story is engaging enough, if silly. Shiro has to skim over parts that involve turning plants into technology - he doesn’t follow the written concept any more comfortably than trying to do it himself with a headband. Other than that, it’s a simple, fun story about a young Olkari girl finding and developing her talents.

Shiro taps the screen, turning another page, and reaches into the box of snacks next to him. He scratches along the empty bottom, surprised that he’s gone through them so quickly. The box had been more than half full of the crispy little balls, but Shiro had been idly going through them like popcorn. 

He finds one last puffball in the corner and pops it in his mouth, then resists the urge to lick his fingers clean. The snacks have the texture of puffed rice, but are extremely salty. Next time, Shiro will get a drink before he sits down with them. They have a vaguely cheesy taste, but bland compared to the snacks on Earth. Nothing he’d usually have chosen to eat, but good enough for now.

Shiro sets down his pad and goes to the sink to wash off. The puffs have left a fine powder behind, and he doesn’t want to give any of it the opportunity to get into his prosthetic joints. He’s already horrified by how much dust and grime gets inside his arm. He doesn’t need to add old food to the mix.

As he’s washing, the door opens. Ryou steps through, then pauses at the sight of Shiro at the sink.

“Hey,” he greets, giving a bland little wave. “Still hungry?”

“Just looking for a snack,” Shiro replies. He turns off the water and puts his hand under a vent. A blast of air quickly dries his hands, no towel required. “How goes your game?”

“Don’t ask.” Ryou crosses his arms, pouting outrageously. “Lance has played all these games since he was a kid, so he keeps kicking my ass. I blame you.”

“I’m sorry I had better pursuits than meaningless, violent fighting games,” Shiro tells him, faux pleasant. “You’ll have to accept my piloting expertise and Garrison rank as consolations.”

“How often do I use either of those?” Ryou walks past, knocking his shoulder playfully into Shiro’s as he passes. “Useless, you are. And- wait.” He pauses, staring at the table.

Shiro follows his gaze, frowning at the sudden end to the teasing. Not that he minds Ryou giving up on such a ridiculous complaint, but it’s not like him. “What?” The table has nothing unusual - just the empty box and his tech pad.

Expression falling, Ryou snatches up the box. He gives it a shake, then peers inside. He gives a low, mournful noise, then whirls on Shiro, brandishing the box like a club. “Did you do this?”

“Did I eat the food in our pantry?” Shiro replies, each word chosen carefully. “Yes. Why?” If Ryou had done something to that food then left it unmarked, Shiro is going to kick his ass.

But Ryou doesn’t seem guilty. Instead, he looks like Shiro had smacked him. His expression falls, then hardens into a mulish temper - still exaggerated, but with real annoyance. “You had to pick these?”

“There was nothing to say I shouldn’t,” Shiro points out. He tries to keep his tone reasonable, but he really has no idea what’s going on. Getting accused for eating a snack is really not how he wanted this evening to go.

Ryou drops down in the seat Shiro had just left, frowning down at the box like Shiro broke his new toy. Apparently the lack of snacks has him honestly crestfallen. It’s unusual to see him truly upset, not just in jest (or because something serious happened).

“I like these,” he finally says.

“They weren’t labeled,” Shiro points out. His stomach flips with guilt, which is ridiculous. There was no reason he should feel bad. Ryou had never staked any kind of claim. “They were just in the pantry. There’s plenty else to eat. We have leftovers from dinner, too.”

Ryou’s head snaps up and he presses his lips thin. His fingers tighten on the box, bending it in half. “Yeah, great. Leftovers and other food I can’t taste. Hunk gets these for me. The texture is good.”

Oh. Yes, that does explain why Ryou is disappointed. The guilt increases, but it’s kept at bay by the unfairness of the accusation. Shiro crosses his arms over his chest. “Again, how was I supposed to know that? Leave a note, or keep it in your room.”

“I’ve never had to bother! Everyone else said they suck. Everyone but you.”

Shiro winces, because he’d just been thinking that they were both bland and too salty. Yet he’d finished off the rest of the box. “They’re not my favorite, but I wasn’t going to be choosy in space.”

“You didn’t even like them? You ate my snacks and you didn’t even enjoy them!” Ryou smacks the box down on the table and groans like he’s wounded. The fact that he’s being dramatic again should make Shiro feel better, but his mulish expression doesn’t let up. “You suck  _ so  _ much.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Shiro repeats, louder this time. He gives up utterly on trying to stay calm and just glares right back at Ryou. “If this is so important to you, protect it better. Frankly, this sounds like your problem.”

Ryou’s eyes snap to Shiro and narrow. He’d been annoyed up until this point, if exaggerating to be annoying. Now, though, his temper is rising to meet Shiro’s.

Well, tough shit. It’s his fault, not Shiro’s.

“You could just say sorry,” Ryou points out. He curls his fingers around the empty box, crushing it farther.

“I could,” Shiro shoots back, purposefully condescending. “But I’m not sorry. I did nothing wrong.”

The response is childish, but so is Ryou’s pouting. And, honestly, Shiro doesn’t feel like being the mature one right now. Ryou barged into his quiet moment and threw a fit over a mistake he himself had made.

Normally, Shiro would be sympathetic. Willing to apologize. But not when Ryou has to be an ass about it.

Ryou’s jaw tightens and he cocks his head. “Oh, you’re not sorry  _ now.” _

What, does Ryou think that Shiro will give in later and beg forgiveness? Hell no, not when he’s acting like this. So Shiro scoffs right back. “I’m not and I won’t be. Maybe this will teach you a lesson in communication. I think this will be a valuable experience for you.”

The exaggerated, ‘leaderly’ tone immediately makes Ryou bristle. He bares his teeth like a dog and slowly stands.

“Just apologize now,” Ryou says lowly. His joking tone is gone, replaced by the tension in his shoulders and the fire in his eyes. “Before this gets ugly.”

Shiro arches his brow back, because what exactly does Ryou think he’s going to do? He’s annoying on a good day. How much worse can he be?

...Or rather, how much worse can he be without actively fucking up the war effort?

“No,” he says, simple and still childish. He’d been having a nice, calm moment and Ryou came in to throw a fit over some snacks. Frankly, if he can be a dick, so can Shiro.

“Fine,” Ryou says, temper suddenly gone. He smiles, like a shark might smile at a fish. “Okay. That’s how it is. I understand. See you later, bro.” He dumps the empty box in the garbage and walks on, purposefully smacking his shoulder into Shiro’s on the way out.

Shiro sees the move coming and braces himself. When Ryou impacts, he’s the one who has to take a half step back.

Hah.

Ryou’s eyes narrow more, but his smile doesn’t flicker. He leaves without another word or without looking back.

Shiro watches him go, then sighs. Theoretically, he’s sympathetic to Ryou. He knows that, of all the side effects of his creation, his lack of taste is the most common annoyance. Ryou eats very few things for the pleasure of it. To have one of those very few options taken away would be an unpleasant surprise.

But all Ryou had to do was write his name on the box and Shiro would have left it alone. Or, hell, if he’d just explained why he was disappointed like an adult, Shiro would have apologized and been careful not to eat the puff snacks in the future.

Instead, he’d pouted about it and acted like Shiro was purposefully ruining his day.

Well, if Ryou wanted to be a child, Shiro could be one too. Maybe next time he’d learn something. And if he expected Shiro to buckle and apologize, Ryou had ruined that for himself.

Snapping up his tablet, Shiro sat down hard and went back to reading, more aggressive than before. He wasn’t going to let Ryou ruin his calm evening, dammit.

But Shiro couldn’t get the taste of artificial, not-quite-cheese out of his mouth, either. Nor could he shake off annoyed tension that had settled into his shoulders.

Stupid Ryou and his stupid snacks. 

***

The next morning wakes them all up with blaring alarms and an emergency broadcast from the Coalition. The tension of the previous night gets completely forgotten in the wake of battling a Galra fleet and preventing the exposure of a Mamora base.

After... well, Shiro forgets. Aside from Ryou’s pouting and threats, it wasn’t that unusual of an evening. His brother has the unique ability to get a rise out of him, so it’s not the first time they’ve had a childish little spat like that. Even if the ending was abrupt, it doesn’t stick out in Shiro’s mind.

So, three days later, Shiro isn’t worried about whatever Ryou had been threatening that night.

Instead, he’s worried Hunk is going to blow up their kitchen.

“It’s not a big deal,” Hunk said, flapping an oven-mitted hand at Shiro. Despite his assurances, his mixing bowl steams ominously. “It’s just a little chemical reaction. Like baking soda and vinegar.”

“I have to tell you, I wouldn’t want to eat that either,” Shiro says blandly. He crosses his arms out of the vague instinct to protect his most vulnerable points. “Is it supposed to be that color, too?”

“It’s the same purple as that weird powder you ate when Coran picked up supplies unsupervised.”

Shiro huffs, still refusing to feel bad about that. “It smelled and tasted like cheese. The color didn’t really matter. Hunk, I have nothing but respect for your expertise, but that looks like bubbling tar.”

Hunk only puts his hands on his hips and huffs at Shiro. “Would you trust me? How often have my experiments done us wrong?”

“Didn’t you make cookies that worked in the teleduv?”

“I count those as a success, considering they saved all our lives.” Hunk huffs at him and turns up his nose. “Would you just get the Yeldraxian powder out of the pantry, please? This needs a thickener so it’ll hold it’s shape.”

Shiro nods, then pauses with his fingers inches away from the handle. “The what powder?”

“The salt-and-pepper looking stuff.”

That’s easy enough, so Shiro opens the pantry.

Or rather, he tries. Because when his fingers wrap around the handle, the whole thing glows bright red. 

Then, a loud voice fills the kitchen. _ “Identity confirmed: Snack Stealing Jerk. Entry Denied.” _

Shiro stills mid-tug, his eyes wide. He stares at the handle, still glowing, and gives another, stronger tug. Since he’s using his right arm, it should be enough to at least bend the handle of most anything in the castle.

But the door doesn’t budge. It’s been reinforced against him.

He tugs again, and the same voice plays.  _ “Identity confirmed: Snack Stealing Jerk. Entry Denied.” _ Despite the identical words, the tone gets more smug and sing-song.  _ “Give it up, already.” _

_ “Ryou,” _ Shiro rumbles out, the name a threat unto itself.

“Uh,” Hunk says behind him, sounding completely flummoxed. “It wasn’t doing that before.”

Rather than respond, Shiro taps his armor-clad wrist, accessing the castle’s communication network. He pings Ryou’s workshop.

There’s a long pause before someone answers. It’s Lance’s face that fills the screen, plastered with a wobbly smile. He glances off screen in a deeply suspicious way, then beams far too wide again. “Hey, Shiro! Bossman! What can I do for you?”

“Put him on.”

“Him? No idea who you could possibly mean. Could you be more specific?”

“Put. Him. On.  _ Now.” _

Lance’s smile flickers. Again, his eyes dart away. Then he gives an incredibly fake-sounding laugh. “Oh, what a coincidence! Ryou just walked in. Hey, Ryou!”   
  
“Hey! No, don’t-” the screen whirls around, shoved into Ryou’s face. He bites his bottom lip, trying to fight off a smile. “Hey, bro. What’s up?”

Shiro just glares back, unamused. Ryou jolts, like he’s fighting off a laugh, then suddenly straightens and gives a perfectly composed smile back, as if this was a completely serious conversation.

...No wonder Keith calls his poker face ‘eerie.’ It is odd to watch from the other side.

But that’s not the point. Not right now.

“This joke has gotten out of hand. Fix the pantry. Now.”

“I thought I did,” Ryou says, utterly innocent. He flutters his lashes at Shiro, giving into his growing smirk. “You said I should work on my communication. I think I’m being very clear now, don’t you?”

Oh, Shiro  _ hates _ him sometimes. “If you don’t come and fix this, I’m going to tear the door off.”

“No, you are not!” Hunk yelps. He steps up behind Shiro and shoos him from the door, taking hold of the handle himself. The red glow instantly cuts out, and the pantry slides open as usual.

Shiro doesn’t stop his furious staring contest with Ryou.

Off screen, Lance bursts into muffled snickers - he’s probably trying to physically hold them back. 

As far as Shiro’s concerned, Lance is clearly a willing accomplice. He’ll be paying for this in laps.

“Fix it,” Shiro repeats, low and threatening.

Ryou taps his chin. “Well, I suppose I could undo all my hard work. Even though you basically told me to do this. But you know what I want.”

Shiro wracks his brain, trying to think past the soul-deep annoyance clouding his thoughts.

Then, it hits him.

“Fuck you,” Shiro says, which only makes Lance’s laughter get louder.

Ryou turns his head and points to his ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What was that you wanted to say to your loving brother?”

Shiro scowls furiously at him, then turns to Hunk. “Can you fix this?”

“Yes?” Hunk leans back from Shiro’s intense stare. “Uh, I mean, yes. I can. Definitely. But I can’t stop him from just doing it again. He lives here too.”

Shit.

Shiro stares at the screen, at Ryou’s smug smile and shining eyes. He’s far, far too gleeful about this stupid, childish prank. He wants to tell Ryou to go fuck himself. But he also wants to have access to the pantry any time in the next year.

There’s only one thing Shiro can do here. But it doesn’t have to be sincere. Or the end of this.

“I’m sorry for eating your snacks,” Shiro forces out, teeth clamped tightly. It’s an effort to get each word out, but he consoles himself that this is not the end.

“I don’t know, Ryou,” Lance sing-songs, still off screen. “He doesn’t sound very serious. I wouldn’t take that from my siblings.”

Oh, Lance is playing a dangerous game.

Ryou eyes, head cocked and smirk growing. “Ah, he’s not used to having a brother. It’s a start.” He taps on his screen for a moment, his finger huge and dark as he works. “Okay, you should be good now.”

“Not even close,” Shiro says sweetly, then shuts off the connection. He stares down at his wrist for a long moment, swallowing the furious churning in his stomach. 

How is it that he can keep his calm when dealing with Galra who personally harmed him, but Ryou makes him steam from the ears?

“Uh,” Hunk says, clutching the bag of... whatever it was he was looking for earlier. The thickening powder. “You’re not going to kill him, right? Having a second yellow paladin is pretty convenient. It’d be a shame to get rid of him.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Shiro says, perfectly evenly. He drops his arm and meets Hunk’s eyes, who winces. “I’m just going to make him  _ wish _ he was dead.”

Hunk’s lips wobble. At first it looks like he’s going to flinch back, but finally he cracks a smile. “You know, the best way I know to get back at my little siblings is to get even.”

Cocking his head, Shiro gives a shark’s smile. “I’m listening.”


End file.
